


Speeding Bullet

by AutumnHobbit



Category: DC Comics, Shazam (2019)
Genre: ......however there is whump because it’s me., Brothers, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Hugs, Hurt/Comfort, Language, NO INCEST EITHER, NO SLASH YOU GODLESS HEATHENS, Shazamily - Freeform, Slightly More Than Canon-Typical, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-24
Updated: 2019-04-24
Packaged: 2020-01-25 19:34:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,511
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18581173
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AutumnHobbit/pseuds/AutumnHobbit
Summary: Shazam is bulletproof.Billy is not.





	Speeding Bullet

**Author's Note:**

> I caved. It’s 1:00 a.m. I’m going to sleep. 
> 
> Go watch Shazam if you haven’t. It’s good, and DC needs to roll in the dough on this one because that’s all they understand.

When Freddy gets out of school for the afternoon, Billy’s waiting at the end of the hall for him. He limps a little faster to meet him, trying to avoid the rush of other kids and any more inquisitions into exactly how a shrimp like  _ him _ met  _ Shazam, _ anyway. 

Billy looks concerned when he reaches him. He’s glancing around nervously. “Don’t your parents or Mary usually come to pick everyone up?”

Freddy stops, blinking as he tries to catch his breath from enthusiastically tapping along. “Uh. Yeah?” His brain catches up and his voice rises a bit more than he meant it to. “Why, are they not here?”

“Not...that I’ve seen,” Billy says, craning his neck to look around again, and Freddy looks around for a minute himself before he mentally smacks himself and checks his phone. “You have a phone, Billy, why didn’t you check that first before you freaked me out?”

Billy shakes his head and refocused on Freddy’s phone. “Oh.” He sounds embarrassed. That’s not a good sign. Probably yet another manifestation of some sort of deep-seated preoccupation with abandonment issues. Freddy would have to deal with that later. He knew Rosa and Victor usually tried to give kids some time to get comfortable in their new environment before getting started in therapy if at all possible, but Billy was clearly in dire need of it and it was beginning to freak him out. 

He finally finishes typing out his extra-long coded password—because no way in hell was he gonna half-ass his password in a house full of other kids—and clicks into his messages app. There were two from Rosa, a couple hours ago.  _ Van broke down while I was out grocery shopping. Victor had to come pick me up. Mary’ll be a bit late to get you guys.  _

_ Please be sure the other kids know, and gather them up. You all stay together until Mary gets there. Love you. See you tonight.  _

Freddy glances up with an exasperated sigh. “Van’s out of commission and Mary’ll be late.” He shoves his phone into his pocket and limps off toward the front door. “We’ve gotta find the other kids and make sure no one wanders off or get snatched.”

Billy falls into step alongside him, hands jammed in his hoodie pockets. “Does that happen a lot around here?” He asks.

Freddy shrugs. “No more than anywhere else, I guess, but Rosa’s always taught us safety protocols. We have buddy systems and self-defense protocols and everything. I know how to wrench a man’s arm.” 

Billy looks bemused. “You do? How many times have you done it?”

“I haven’t had an opportunity to use it on anyone yet, Batson!” Freddy yelps, valiantly coming to his own defense.  _ “Unfortunately _ I haven’t been accosted by any criminals regularly before I met you.”

“What about Brett and Burk?” Billy’s definitely screwing with him now.

“Criminals who can’t regularly retaliate by giving me a wedgie,” Freddy dismisses him with a wave of his free hand. 

They’re out on the steps by now, and thankfully Eugene, Darla, and Pedro are already out there and huddled together in an awkward knot on the curb. Well. Awkward to everyone else, maybe. Darla’s never awkward because she’s not self-aware enough to be embarrassed yet. Pedro doesn’t care what people think. And Eugene’s got his phone barely an inch from his nose, so he’s probably not aware which way is up at the moment. 

“Freddy!” Darla spots them first and runs full-pelt to give Freddy a hug, then Billy. “We made paper mashy in class today and I made a batarang just like yours, see!?” She pulls a boxy-looking black batarang that looks like it’s been completely submerged in glitter multiple times over from her jacket pocket and waves it in Freddy’s face. “Now I can stab supervillains if they ever bother us again, too!” 

“That’s great, Darla!” He tells her, gently pushing the batarang away from his nose. “Although I dunno if you can sharpen paper mache—“

“Where’s Mary?” Pedro asks dully, kicking at the pavement. 

“Rosa said she’s gonna be late, I dunno why, and the van broke down,” Freddy rattles off, and clatters over to slump upright against a tree trunk. “So she said to wait for Mary and stick together and whatever.” 

“Hmm.” Pedro goes back to staring fixedly at the garbage can next to the bus stop across the street or whatever it is he’s looking at. Eugene still hasn’t even looked up. 

Darla turns her attention to Billy and drags him by his jacket sleeve over to the curb. “Come on, Billy, sit with me!” She says, and Billy blinks but lets her manhandle him over next to the other kids. She pats the curbside, and Billy awkwardly sits down, and Darla hops onto his lap and settles in. It doesn’t look particularly comfortable, because Billy’s still got his hands jammed in his pockets, so Darla’s kind of balancing between his elbows, but she doesn’t seem interested in moving and despite Billy trying to bullshit his way through being a tough guy, he’s not a dipshit enough to push her off. 

The five of them sit there. And sit there. And sit there. Freddy pushes off the tree and goes and sits next to Pedro. Eugene’s battery dies, and he looks around wide-eyed and then promptly pulls out a tiny rubber walrus to play with on his jacket zipper. Pedro falls asleep sitting up. Billy quietly begs Darla to move because he can’t feel his legs. She bites her lip and looks up at him and he half-moans with guilt. Freddy knows the feeling. 

Actually, he’s halfway through a paraphrased retelling of an episode of the old Twilight Zone he’s not sure any of the others are even listening to when car tires squeal and Pedro jumps to his feet and wakes up a second later and Mary’s battered old beater car pulls up to the curb and jostles into park. It’s barely a millisecond after that that Mary’s jumping out, squealing, “Ohmygod you guys I’m so sorry I’m so late, my shift ran into overtime and then there was a wreck that blocked the road for an hour and an entire flock of ducks after that, but there were  _ eight ducklings  _ can you believe,  _ eight,  _ so I couldn’t be  _ too _ mad, and,” aaaaaand Freddy stops listening after that point. 

Darla finally gets up and runs to hug Mary, and Billy kind of gasps in relief and drops his legs back down with his knees straight, and Eugene gets up and meanders over to the car and starts rummaging around in the cupholder. “Do you have your car charger?”

Mary sticks Darla in her booster seat in the back seat and circles back around. “Freddy, the temp’s supposed to drop in an hour or so here, so you guys should come home, but I don’t have room in the car for everybody.” 

“I can walk home,” Billy offers, rubbing at his knee. 

Mary glances at him quickly. “Oh no, Billy, I don’t wanna make you walk alone—“

“Great! I’ll go with him.” Freddy quickly offers, straightening and grasping his cane. 

Mary makes a face. “Freddy.” 

Freddy splays his arms. “What? I like the fresh air.”

“You’ve been sitting in it for an hour and a half already,” Mary says wryly, but glances back at Billy. “Oh, fine. But you two come right home, okay? No shenanigans or crime-fighting.”

Billy and Freddy glance at each other deviously, and Mary insists, “I  _ mean it, _ or I’m waiting and driving behind you at ten miles an hour the whole way back.” 

The two of them groan, but Billy caves first. Coward. “No shenanigans,” he promises, raising his right hand like he’s being sworn in at court or something. “Cross my heart.” 

Mary’s face softens, until she glances at Freddy, at which point she goes all stern and big-sister again. “What’m  _ I _ gonna do?  _ He’s _ the one who got kidnapped by a wizard!” 

Mary rolls her eyes. “Well of course he did,” she says, ducking to press a quick kiss to Freddy’s hairline. He makes a face and scrubs it off. “He hasn’t had anti-kidnapping lessons like you have.”

“I feel kind of left out,” Billy confesses dryly as Mary straightens and Freddy tugs his hat on tighter and makes his way over next to Billy. 

“We’ll enroll you as soon as possible,” Mary tells him, and smiles at them both as she gets into the driver’s seat. She rolls the window down and calls, “If you’re not home by 5:00, I’m calling, and if you don’t answer I’m coming out after you! Love you!” The last part comes out kind of echoey as she pulls away. 

Billy and Freddy just stand and watch the car drive off for a minute. Then Freddy looks both ways and sets off across the street, and Billy comes along. 

“You know,” Billy says, after a minute. “I could probably just fly us home, if you want.”

Freddy rolls his eyes and keeps stumping along. “I could fly  _ you _ home, too,” he reminds him, pointedly, for spite. “You don’t have to coddle me, and I wanna walk home.”

“Oookay,” Billy says, and drops it. Freddy’s relieved. 

It’s getting to twilight hours, and the sky’s darkening but still has a streak of bright blue and pink at the horizon. The air’s getting bitter and the sparkling lights all around don’t make the dark any less present or obvious. 

“You know,” Freddy says, wincing as a cold gust hits him square in the face, “maybe we should just fly—“ 

Suddenly Billy’s grabbing him by the arm and dragging him back behind a row of hedges in someone’s front yard, and Freddy barely has the chance to yelp out a shrill ‘what the hell?’ before he hears footsteps and looks up and sees six guys coming up to the crosswalk from one of the side roads. 

“What was that for?” Freddy hisses, and Billy quietly lifts his head to look over the hedge real quick before dropping back down and holding unnaturally still. 

“When I came to Philadelphia first, I hung out in a homeless camp down by the old railroad depot,” he whispers back, sharp and quick. “There were these guys there that used to just go around town and rough up anyone on the streets after dark for money or whatever they could get.”

Freddy tries to glance at them, himself. “How do you know that’s them?”

“Because they only had one package of galaxy-print bandanas, that’s why!” Billy whisper-snaps. 

“Wait.  _ Really?”  _ Freddy glances back again, and pales, because while they really  _ are _ wearing ridiculous, galaxy-print bandanas, he’s fairly sure they also saw him. And the guy in front looks about his height, but he comes stalking over anyway, and Freddy has never been a fan of people stalking toward him quickly. Especially since running is not his strong suit. 

“Hey!” The dude yells, and Freddy ducks back down, and Billy quietly curses. 

“Run for it?” Freddy asks. 

“No,” Billy says. 

“Sha-you-know-what it?”

“Come outta that bush before my boys here shoot it to pieces!”

Billy grits his teeth. “Do it.”

“But Billy—“

“Just come on!” Billy snaps, out loud this time, and Freddy glares but gets up slowly and moves back around the bush and onto the sidewalk, Billy moving with him.

Sure enough, the dudes are standing there, and the head guy  _ is _ really short; hell, he might even be shorter than Billy. He’s also holding a gun sideways, in that stupid stereotypical thug-style hold from the movies that the Mythbusters proved was a piss-poor way to aim.

“Alright you little grade school shits, phones and wallets, if you even know what those are,” the short dude says. “Nice and easy.” 

Freddy wishes he’d managed to master typing his password without looking, but it’s a skill that’ll take more than a few solitary hours of practice and he hasn’t had the time recently. But they don’t know that. Recent events made him change his lockscreen wallpaper to a screencap of the dial pad with 911 typed in. He hits the home button with his thumb and holds his phone up. “You want my phone? You want me to call the cops, too, jackasses?” 

The short dude glares, and Billy hisses  _ “Freddy,” _ warningly. 

“What?” Freddy asks, defensive. “I’m not giving my phone to any hobbit-ass lookin’ robber without—“ 

Billy screeches his name again and rams into Freddy with surprising force from the side, and Freddy would probably be more angry if he wasn’t too busy nearly jumping out of his skin at the loud  _ crack! _ that echoes louder than Billy rolling off the top bunk in the middle of the night. Which he’s done. Twice. Over the railing. Somehow. He covers his head when he lands on the concrete hard enough to knock the breath out of him, but when nothing else happens for a moment, he raises it very slightly and looks around. 

The first thing he sees is Billy, lying right next to him on the sidewalk, staring at him. His eyes are huge and he’s shaking just slightly. Freddy doesn’t get it until he sees the hand he’s clutching at his chest with. 

_ “Billy?” _ is what he says, the first thing he can think of to say, and his voice breaks on it, and Billy makes a scared little noise that does  _ not _ sound like anything he’s ever heard from him before. And Freddy’s heart is suddenly galloping a mile a minute, and he almost wouldn’t notice that the stupid gang of would-be robbers is still there, except he suddenly sees with sharp clarity that the short dude is still pointing the gun at Billy, and he seems to have come closer.

Gritting his teeth in a sudden wave of seethingly hot rage, Freddy wraps his fingers around the handle of his cane securely and whips it up as hard and fast as he can, fully hoping he’s breaking the hand holding the gun. The short dude screams a high note worthy of the Bee Gees and drops the gun with a clatter to the pavement. Freddy doesn’t stop there. He thwacks the dude in the knees and in the nuts and then whips it into an uppercut of his jaw, wrenches his arm when he drops for good measure, and lashes out in the direction of the dude’s buddies. He hears a few surprise yells, and keeps whacking until the yells turn to cries of retreat. The losers run off and disappear around the block, and Freddy’s left panting, holding his crutch and listing to one side on his good knee on the sidewalk. 

A soft wheeze hits his ears and he suddenly remembers what just happened and drops his cane to scramble on his hands and knees over to Billy again. The older boy hasn’t moved from being sprawled on his side on the pavement. His eyes are still open, though. That’s good, right?

Freddy’s 0.3 seconds of optimism instantly evaporate and his brain momentarily shuts down when he sees the puddle of blood spreading under Billy. 

“Hey,” he says, stammers, and Billy’s eyes snap to him from somewhere else. “Don’t move.” Freddy looks around helplessly, grabs for his phone when he spots it lying nearby. He tries to unlock it, but the screen’s cracked and doesn’t seem to be working in some places and his hands are shaking too much to type it in properly, anyway. 

Billy makes a quiet little gasping sound and Freddy’s pounding heart goes into overtime when reddish foam froths at his mouth. “Hey!” He snaps, like it’s Billy’s fault. It’s not.  _ It’s his. _ “Don’t—don’t.” 

Billy’s eyes flutter, and that’s when Freddy truly panics, even though it doesn’t really makes sense to  _ not _ lose it when your big foster sort-of brother foams blood but  _ to _ lose it when his lashes move. But panic Freddy does. He looks around, sees no one, and screams for help anyway. He screams for Rosa or Victor or Mary. He considers screaming for Superman for a split second before he suddenly thinks of something.

“Billy,” he hisses desperately, crawls closer. “Billy!”

Billy’s eyes flick open dully. 

“You’ve gotta say it, Billy. Can you?” He’s got to be able to. Please, God, he’s  _ got _ to be able to say it. 

Billy tries, and chokes. There’s a whistling noise coming from his chest. 

“Come on.” Freddy’s dimly aware he’s crying, but he doesn’t care at the moment. “Try again.”

“Sh-“ Billy gags bloody foam, and Freddy cries harder. 

“Shaz. Shazam,” he finally manages, even though it’s hoarse and barely audible, and Freddy instinctively scrambles backwards when the lightning strikes. The smoke clears, and Freddy crawls forward before it does. Billy’s in the same position he was, and the blood’s still on the sidewalk, but he lifts his head when he hears Freddy coming and looks at him, eyes still huge and terrified but less desperate. 

Freddy feels plenty desperate for the both of them. His hands go straight to the stupid bright red spandex or whatever it is and he feels around for any remaining injury as he rambles, still tearfully. “Are you okay? Is it gone? Is it?”

Grown-up Billy nods, silently, his expression looking wrong on the older face. He looks so small and scared. “I. I feel fine.” 

Freddy gasps, and hangs his head for a second, shaking. It’s a long moment before he finally manages to raise his head again. He looks Billy in the eyes. “Can you. Can you change back?”

Billy looks more scared, and Freddy reasons, “I mean, if you’re fine as Shaz-zam, do you think maybe? Maybe it’ll heal normal-you?”

Billy shrugs.

Freddy swallows hard, and it tastes sour. “There’s….there’s only one way to find out.” 

Billy’s still obviously scared, but he hesitantly mumbles, “Shazam,” in that stupid announcer-voice, and Freddy fans the smoke away with one hand and scrambles forward again. 

Billy’s sitting upright on the sidewalk, chest heaving very slightly. There’s no blood that Freddy can see on his chest, though the puddle’s still there. Freddy crawls past it and right to Billy and throws his arms around the older boy and buries his face against his shoulder and holds on tight. It takes a bit for Billy to hesitantly raise his arms up to hug Freddy back, but Freddy’s too busy bawling his eyes out to really care too much. He’s choking hysterical  _ I’m sorry’s _ over and over, and Billy’s trying and failing to calm him down while shaking, himself. 

Freddy sits bolt upright after a moment. “Mary,” he manages, scrubbing tears off his face with one hand. 

_ “Shit,” _ Billy hisses through his teeth, and starts to get up. Freddy tries to help him, but then remembers his cane is lying however many feet away and he’s not so great on his feet himself right now. It winds up that the two of them clumsily get to their feet, and Billy helps him hobble over to his poor abandoned cane and picks it up to him. Freddy sticks his arm back in the cuff and straightens, still out of breath from crying and feeling kind of floaty and awful. 

“Shazam,” Billy says again, apropos of nothing, and Freddy gags at the smoke for the third time that evening. “What was that for?” He meant to ask sourly, but his voice broke. Again. Damn, that wasn’t going away for a while.

Billy picks him up. “I’m going right home. Be mad at me if you want.”

Freddy’s not mad. He just holds onto Billy. 

__

 

Billy lands on the driveway at the house and Shazams himself back. There’s hardly any delay between the lightning and the door bursting open, and Rosa running down the front steps towards them. “There you are! Billy, Freddy, we’ve been worried sick! Mary tried to call you at least thirty times and—is that  _ blood?” _ Her voice goes from frantic to aghast. 

Freddy looks down and sees Billy’s jeans are smeared with it on the thighs, and he winces. “It—“

“It was my fault,” Billy says quickly. “It’s nothing, really. I just….had a nosebleed and wiped it on my jeans. I wasn’t thinking. I’m sorry, Rosa.”

Rosa leaves off frantically examining the stains, which thankfully aren’t huge, to send Billy a soft look. Damn. Misdirecting her with an expression of self-deprecation. Billy’s smarter than he gives him credit for sometimes. “Oh hon, it’s alright. Do you have those often?”

Billy shakes his head. “No. I hadn’t had one in months. Freddy was just...waiting with me. S’why we took so long.”

“Why didn’t you call? Or text? Mary could’ve come and got you.” Rosa said, just a hint scolding. “She’s been out scouring the streets for you, worried sick.”

“M-my phone’s broken,” Freddy says, pulling it out to show it to her. “I dropped it. Sorry.”

Rosa makes a sympathetic noise when she sees it. “Ah.”

“Mine’s dead,” Billy quickly adds. 

“Well then,” Rosa says decisively. “A bad set of coincidences is all. I’ll call Mary and let her know you’re back. Up to shower and bed with you two, alright? And just put your jeans in the sink with some cold water, okay, Billy?”

“Yes ma’am,” Billy replies, and goes to head inside. Freddy starts to follow him, but Rosa gently touches his arm. “Freddy?”

“Hmm?” He says too quickly, turning to face her. 

She searches his face gently, and he knows she can see the remains of tears all over his cheeks, and his eyes are still throbbing and sore and probably red as can be. “Are you okay, honey? You seem really upset.”

He shrugs. “Yeah,” he says, looking away. “I was just...scared, I guess.”

Whatever Rosa sees in his face satisfies her, because she gently pets his head and lets him go inside. 

__

 

As soon as Mary gets back, she comes running into their room after barely a knock. “What happened? I told you two no superhero shenanigans!” She scolds, out of breath.

Freddy and Billy both tense right up, and look at each other. Neither of them want to recount what happened to Mary.

She glances between them, and pales. “What’s wrong? What…”

Freddy breaks. “This pack of guys tried to rob us and shot at me and Billy knocked me over and got shot and I knocked a bitch out with my crutch but Billy was dying but saying Shazam fixed him and we came home as quick as we could but I didn’t even think about it at first because I was so upset and I—“ 

“Freddy,” Mary says, and Freddy realizes she’s said it multiple times in varying degrees of alarm, and he holds one finger up and stops talking because he’s about to cry again. 

“Oh, Freddy,” Mary says, and she sounds like she’s about to cry, too. She crosses the room and pulls him against her and Freddy lets her, closing his eyes and clinging to his big sister’s sweater. She strokes his hair and holds on for a minute. Then she releases him, only to stride over to Billy and give him the same treatment. “Thank God you’re alright,” she whispers tearfully, and Billy looks shocked over her shoulder, until he slowly loosens up and leans into the hug. 

Mary pulls back reluctantly and looks at the both of them, scrubbing at her running makeup. “Don’t do that again,” she sniffles. “I was so scared.”

“We won’t,” both of them chorus at once, with feeling. 

Mary smiles shakily at that. “Alright. I’m gonna. Go to bed now. I’ve gotta work tomorrow.”

“Night, Mary,” Billy says, and Freddy echoes, “Good night.” 

Mary nods, and smiles wobbly at them again, and gently closes the door behind her. 

It’s quiet when she’s gone, and Billy exhales roughly. “Fuck.”

Freddy glances at him. He’s sitting on the top bunk, with his feet perched on the second step from the top. His hair’s wet, and he’s wearing a pair of Batman pajamas that Rosa bought him. He’s just sitting in his room, on his bed, that he’s only had for a few weeks.

Freddy just got his first best friend, and his big brother, and he almost died. He wouldn’t have gotten to keep him if not for the stupid wizard.

Thank you, stupid wizard, wherever you are. 

“Why didn’t you turn into Shaz-am?” Is what he winds up saying.

Billy, startled, looks at him. “What?”

“Why didn’t you turn into Sha-zam in the first place, when they first showed up?” Freddy asks, beginning to get agitated. “You could’ve just thrown them through a fence or something and you never would’ve gotten hurt! Why didn’t you?”

“Because,” Billy says, a frown on his face, “because I wasn’t sure if I could do it fast enough to protect you! I don’t wanna turn into Sh—“ he sighs in exasperation,  _ “Hazamshay, _ and be bulletproof, but you not be! At least I can heal.”

“But you didn’t know that!” Freddy half-screams.

“I know!” Billy half-screams right back.

Freddy stares open mouthed for a second. Then something occurs to him. “I could’ve healed myself, too!”

Billy stares, blank-faced.

“I could’ve just changed into my super form and back, too! None of this was even remotely necessary!”

The two of them stare at each other. And stare. 

And then Billy cracks up. And Freddy, despite being angry—at himself and at Billy—cracks up, too. 

“This is stupid as shit,” Freddy gasps, wheezing with laughter.

“No doubt,” Billy agrees, hand over his mouth.

Freddy clacks over across the floor to the bottom of the bunk bed ladder. Billy watches him, waiting.

“Listen,” Freddy says, staring up at him. “I feel the need to explain plainly that I wasn’t kidding when I said I didn’t want to watch you die.”

Billy cracks an odd, almost wistful smile. “Maybe you’re my best friend, too.” 

That...kind of takes Freddy’s breath away. He loves Rosa and Victor, and Mary and Pedro and Eugene and Darla...but it’s not the same as having a friend, someone who doesn’t just love you anyway. Someone who didn’t know you from Adam and still puts up with you. But he doesn’t think the phrase ‘puts up with’ is really sufficient to describe what Billy did for him this evening. 

Freddy thwacks the ladder. “We are putting you in safety lessons  _ tomorrow. _ I will inform Rosa and Victor in the morning.”

“Alrighty then,” Billy says, with a tired grin, and flops down on the mattress with a loud squeak. 

Freddy goes and sits down on his bed, listening to Billy shifting around up above. “Hey, Billy?” He says.

“Yeah.”

“Beating people up with my cane is fun and all, but I’d rather just have us handle things together.”

Billy chuckles. “You got it, sidekick.”

Freddy jams his hand up under the railing, middle finger extended. Billy just laughs at him again. 

 

**Author's Note:**

> I’m on tumblr: autumnhobbit.tumblr.com


End file.
